Hedgehogs

She loved hedgehogs. Not hedgehogs—these gray, spiky forest creatures she'd encountered a couple of times in her life when her dad took her mushroom picking. It was the hedgehogs that captured her heart. The cute little creatures with apples on their needles, the famous character's bundle of raspberry jam—these were the images that warmed her soul.

She searched for stories, poems, and songs about hedgehogs and, of course, collected all sorts of toys and figurines depicting her favorite character.

A huge shelf was dedicated to them. Her family and friends laughed at her obsession, but they constantly added to the collection. There were all sorts of hedgehogs there—clay and glass, silver and amber. Every day, she would visit the hedgehog shelf, even if only briefly. She would look at her favorites, mentally converse with them, addressing each one individually, creating lives and personalities for them.

At some point, she began to notice that the arrangement of the hedgehogs on the shelf changed slightly each time. At first, she ignored it, then decided it was her brother's doing—he liked to play jokes on her. But to avoid giving him any reason to think the joke had worked, she didn't show any sign of noticing the change.

She woke in the middle of the night with a strange tickling sensation all over her. Her eyes opened with difficulty. The room was bathed in the light of the full moon, and the hedgehogs were all around her on the bed.

They surrounded her in a tight circle—thankfully, the collection was quite large. She tried to blink to shake off the illusion, to sit up, to move her arm—but for some reason, her body wouldn't obey. And then she heard a quiet voice. It might seem strange, but the voice was familiar. It belonged to one of her "exhibits"—a large clay hedgehog in a red hat. That's exactly how she imagined him during her mental communication.

The voice came from behind her head.

"Her thoughts gave us intelligence!" the voice declared, and she felt as if it were speaking directly into her head. The hedgehog circle responded with an approving hiss or panting sound.

"Her blood will give us strength!" the speech continued. More panting, only louder.

"Her life will give us life!" the circle of hedgehogs grew tighter.

"Today, on the full moon, we will take her blood!"

The ring tightened, and she felt thousands of tiny needles pierce her body.

When she woke up, sunlight was already filtering through the thin curtains. Her head ached, her body ached. 

The doctor they called diagnosed rubella—her entire body was covered in a fine red rash, and her temperature had risen. "What can't you see when you're feverish?" she thought.

She had already recovered and had practically forgotten about the strange dream, but she no longer wanted to go near the shelf with the hedgehogs. Sometimes she thought she felt a tense gaze as she passed by. But, being a rational person, she pushed all thoughts of the strange sensations away.

She opened her eyes with difficulty in the middle of the night. Another full moon, and there they were again. Hedgehogs.

"Her life will give life to us!" Her eyes slowly closed, panting rhythmically...

The ambulance called by her family was left to pronounce her death from a heart attack.